"I'm a city girl. I was born and raised in Washington, D.C., and I've spent my entire adult life living in cities (Moscow, London, Amsterdam, New York, and now Washington again). I love big cities for the energy, the people-watching, the access to art and culture, the ability to feel anonymous. But I also need a daily 'forest bath,' as the Japanese call it. I take a long walk in the woods almost every day to clear my head. (In Moscow, I walked in wooded parks; in London, I went to Hampstead Heath; in Amsterdam, I walked in the Amsterdamse Bos; in Brooklyn, I was in Prospect Park every day; now my daily walk is in Rock Creek Park.) I've been doing this for years. There is something about being on the trails, in the silence, under all those trees that does wonders for my brain. (A couple of years ago, The New York Times noted the health benefits of 'forest bathing': apparently time spent among trees and plants reduces stress and boosts immune function.) I take my dog with me and sometimes I sort out character and plot problems on my walks. But more often than not, the walk is just a way to let go—of anxiety, of ego—and recharge my creative batteries. I always work better after I've been in the woods."

—Elliott Holt, author of You Are One of Them (The Penguin Press, 2013)

When I was growing up I would go for long walks in the woods every day. I got Lyme disease before anyone knew what it was. I can still remember the doctor saying, "Well, it's arthritis, so there's no sense giving you antibiotics." My knees are pretty well shot.

The woods are overrated!

All snarking aside, I still enjoy long walks. Even when I can't get to more "natural" settings, just walking through nearby suburban neighborhoods recharges my batteries.

When I travel, I walk a lot. Last time I was out of Australia I went to the island of Mull, (Scotland for those unfamiliar) and went on two or three very long cross-country off-road hikes with a small group. Not a lot of forest on Mull, but travelling slowly on foot means to do get to see, smell (and inadvertently put your foot in) all sort of interesting things.

Later I was in Rome, and then later again on the Amalfi coast. Practically went everywhere on foot. Ditto Manhattan years ago (among other things I walked Broadway from Battery point to the Lincoln Centre.) .

One of my favourite memories from urban walking was in the London suburb of Hornsey, where I was searching for the Lotus racing car company's first factory, and I walked past the open door of an Indian spice shop. Wow! The fantastic smells that blasted out of that door, absolutely without warning, were unforgettable. Every exotic spice you could imagine, at full strength! Marvellous.

Funny thing is, at home I seldom walk far. Age has something to do with it. Also of course I know my own neighbourhood extremely well, and am never likely to get that spice-shop surprise here.

But as soon as I'm away from my own stamping ground, walking is my travel mode of choice.

When I travel, I walk a lot. Last time I was out of Australia I went to the island of Mull, (Scotland for those unfamiliar) and went on two or three very long cross-country off-road hikes with a small group. Not a lot of forest on Mull, but travelling slowly on foot means to do get to see, smell (and inadvertently put your foot in) all sort of interesting things.

Later I was in Rome, and then later again on the Amalfi coast. Practically went everywhere on foot. Ditto Manhattan years ago (among other things I walked Broadway from Battery point to the Lincoln Centre.) .

One of my favourite memories from urban walking was in the London suburb of Hornsey, where I was searching for the Lotus racing car company's first factory, and I walked past the open door of an Indian spice shop. Wow! The fantastic smells that blasted out of that door, absolutely without warning, were unforgettable. Every exotic spice you could imagine, at full strength! Marvellous.

Funny thing is, at home I seldom walk far. Age has something to do with it. Also of course I know my own neighbourhood extremely well, and am never likely to get that spice-shop surprise here.

But as soon as I'm away from my own stamping ground, walking is my travel mode of choice.

I think I do my best thinking when I'm riding on a lawnmower. Strange? Sure, but think about it. You're on the lawnmower, puttering around the yard, for about an hour. Not much to think around, really, except turning the wheel and maybe backing up sometimes. It's a perfect opportunity to get outside and let your mind wander for a bit.

I think I do my best thinking when I'm riding on a lawnmower. Strange? Sure, but think about it. You're on the lawnmower, puttering around the yard, for about an hour. Not much to think around, really, except turning the wheel and maybe backing up sometimes. It's a perfect opportunity to get outside and let your mind wander for a bit.

Remind me not to visit when you're mowing the lawn - it sounds dangerous. Concentrate I say, concentrate!